


An Overdue Confession

by The_Captain



Series: The Cons of Being Dovahkiin [6]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Confessions, Drinking, F/M, Flashbacks, Flirting, I'm a sucker for this pairing, Implied Sexual Content, So sue me, story telling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Captain/pseuds/The_Captain
Summary: She'd always wanted to tell Brynjolf she was the Dragonborn, but she'd never found the time. But now time's run out. It's now or never.Takes place before the Dragonborn defeats Alduin. This might turn into a two chapter fic if people like it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love this pairing. Sorry not sorry.

_There’s something we need to discuss. Meet me on the back deck of Honeyside tonight. I'll be waiting._

 -  _ _Mera__

 

A nip in the air bit at Mera’s nose as she sat on her deck. She'd kill for a warm cup of… anything right about now. Even the comfort of holding something warm in her hands would be a welcome. Her eyes moved to the darkening sky as the moons brightened over the Rift. The night was still young, there was plenty of time for Brynjolf to arrive.

And if he didn't…

She exhaled through her nose.

If he didn't, there would be no other chance. This was the only day she could afford to spend in the Rift before… before…

She'd tell him tonight, or not at all.

Eyes closed, she hissed to herself, “Hurry up you ass,”

“Hope you aren't talking about me, lass,”

The sudden voice was almost enough to startle her. Almost. In her time training with thieves and assassins, she'd learned to expect sneaks creeping up behind her unannounced.

“Took you long enough,” Mera spoke without raising her eyes from where they were fixed out on the water. It was a clear night. In the distance, she could see Golden Glow, a small fortress in the center of the lake.

There was mirth in Brynjolf’s voice when he spoke, and she could practically hear his lopsided grin. “Sun’s only just set. Your note did say “night”, didn't it, lass?”

Mera bit down on her lip to prevent herself from falling into this trap of a petty argument. She wanted to bicker with him over the time of day and punctuality, badly, but she knew it was her desperation to stall that was talking.

“Sit, Bryn. Please.”

There was a long beat of silence, a creak from the worn wood, and finally the sound of a weight settling down across the table from her.

Finally, she turned her head to look at him. He was in his guild leathers, as always. Curiosity lurked behind his gaze as it settled on her firmly.

“Alright, I'm here,” he started, “So what is this about?”

A million thoughts filled her mind. Where to start? She opened her mouth, closed it again, before speaking. “How fares the guild?”

Annoyance crossed over Brynjolf's expression. “The guild fares fine, las, better than ever. The new recruits bring in more gold every day. We're swimming in it.” Brynjolf reached for a bottle of mead on the table, shooting her a questioning glance before she gave a slight nod of approval. He popped it open and took a long drink.

Good, she couldn't help but think. This would be easier with alcohol.

“Mera,” he said firmly, causing her eyes to jump back towards his face. “If you were going to simply ask about the guild, we could have talked in the Flagon. Why did you-”

“Could we?” She cut him off, reaching forward to grab her own bottle from the table. She opened it with a harsh moment and took a long swing. In a tone that mocked his accent, she said “Sorry lass, I’ve got important things to do, we'll speak another time.”

An edge seeped into Brynjolf’s tone that matched the irritation in his eyes. “Aye, I’ve been busy. Busy running the Guild while you disappear for weeks at a time. So forgive me if I don’t have much time for conversation.”

Mera opened her mouth, a heated retort on the tip of her tongue, only to let it fall flat, shutting her lips with a sigh. She told herself she wasn’t going to argue this, not tonight. And here she was, starting the fight anyway. “I know,” she said, and her easy surrender of the fight had Brynjolf’s eyes widening,“I’m sorry.”

He leveled his gaze with her, a hard look in his eyes that nearly had her squirming, before he took another long drink. She mimicked his movement, allowing the Black-Briar mead to wash over her tongue and burn it’s way down her throat.

“Mera,” Brynjolf said her name again, softer this time than before, “what is this about?”

Mera closed her eyes, facing down towards the old wooden table that occupied her slice of the Riften docks. It was hard for her to find the words. She’d imagined this conversation so many times, with so many different responses on his part, as well as the others she’d always wanted to tell. Finally, she swallowed thickly, and looked back towards him.

“Brynjolf,” she started, saying his name slowly. She could see the impatience brewing in his eyes once again, but this time it was capped as he tried to restrain himself from pushing her. She appreciated the gesture. “Bryn, I know that our relationship has been… complicated,”

“Aye, that’s certainly a word for it,” he interrupted her, a look in his eyes that throws her back with an intensity that she wasn’t expecting.

_“How did you get in here?” She asks, fire in her tone._

_“Through the front door, lass.” Brynjolf replies, holding the troll skull she kept as decoration up, like he was appraising an item before buying it. Or, in his case, steal._

_“I figured that,” she says dryly. “But that doesn’t explain_ how _. I’ve got the best locks that money can buy on this place.”_

_“Aye, but clearly they aren’t better than me,” He turns to her, a smirk pulling at his lips, “These hands are very talented, you know.”_

_She hates herself for blushing. “Alright, fine. What do you want?”_

_“Something expensive,” he speaks casually, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handful of gemstone. “You certainly keep a lot of valuables in a city full of thieves, lass. Perhaps not your brightest idea.”_

_She strides towards him with hurried steps, extending a hand. “Give those back.”_

_He lets them fall into her palm. “Fine, I suppose I could find something else.” He reaches up, taking advantage of her closeness to grasp at the golden emerald pendant that hangs around her neck. He fingers the chain, pulling gently to lure her in closer._

_She steams, exhausted by his games, “Why are you_ here _Brynjolf.”_

_He leans in, like what he’s about to say is an intimate secret. “The cistern is cold tonight, lass. I’ve been up top, looking for a warm bed to steal away in.”_

_Involuntarily, her eyes flicker to that of her own bed, so much bigger than what one person needs. “So you came here.”_

_“Mhm,” he hummed, still playing with the chain around her neck._

_She tosses the idea around in her head for a long moment. For some reason, all she can think of is Aela and Skjor.  Except this is worse. She and Brynjolf aren’t equals. He’s her superior. For a moment, she wonders what Mercer would think._

_“Fuck it,” She says aloud, reaching up with both her hands and grasping his face, pulling him into a quick and eager kiss. The hand that’s tangled in her necklace tightens its grip, keeping her close, while his other hand grasps her hip.  Brynjolf seems to think that he’s in charge here, like he is in the sewers, the ratway and the Cistern, if his pressing tongue is anything to go by. She bites at his lip to keep him at bay._

_Breathless, she breaks the kiss, but his grip on her necklace holds her close. She searches his eyes for a moment, looking for any malicious intent, before leaning back in. He goes to meet her, expecting another kiss, but she moves one hand, holding a finger in front of his lips, preventing him from moving forward._

_“Break into my house again, and I’ll break your arm,” she breathes the words in their closeness._

_The smirk is back on his face with a new found vigour. “Of course, lass. Never again.”_

“Mera.” Brynjolf’s voice shook her out of the memory. “Continue.”

“Right,” she cleared her throat, hoping that he couldn’t see the heat in her cheeks in the dark. “Even though things have been, well, complicated…” She breathed out through her nose, pausing, “I hope you know I consider you a dear friend. Even with… these past few months.”

Mera wasn’t an idiot. Brynjolf had only started to be so short with her after she started disappearing for longer and longer periods of time. Their distance was her fault, not his.

The conflict was clear in Brynjolf’s expression. “Aye, and I consider you one as well.”

Her chest tightened at his words, “I care about you. A lot.”

“Lass, where is this-”

“Brynjolf, please, this is hard enough without you interrupting me.”

He looked annoyed, but he closed his mouth. She waited a beat to ensure his silence.

“Thank you,” she sighed, allowing silence to swallow them both again. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts as she grasped for the bottle of mead again.

“Brynjolf I'm leaving for a while and I don't know if I'm going to make it back.” She said in one breath, closing her eyes and only opening them to see the after shocks of her words.

“What do you mean by _make_ it back?” Brynjolf pried. She cursed him in her mind. He had a thief's attention to detail.

“I…” she struggled to find the words, eyes burning with something. Tears? It was hard to say.

“I won't lie to you, Bryn, I have to do something. Something dangerous. And I don't know if I'm going to make it back.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Mera thought she could drown in it.

“You want to square away business in case you don't make it back.” Brynjolf stated, like he was piecing together the puzzle. “Why would you-”

“Yes but-- You were Mercer's right hand. And you're mine. I just want to make sure-”

“Don’t”

“What?” She asked.

“Don’t do whatever dangerous thing it is you think you need to do.”

“Brynjolf I can't-”

“Mera I'm serious. I've seen you fight. You're a terror. If this… whatever this is, is dangerous enough to make you think you won't make it back, then _don't_.”

“You don't understand-”

“What am I not understanding, lass? What's got you so ready to die?”

“Brynjolf _please_!” She begged, voice strained. “This isn't all I have to tell you.”

Brynjolf leveled a glare across the table at her. “I'm listening.”

“...How familiar are you with the Dragonborn?”

Confusion, shock, disbelief, and an emotion Mera couldn’t quiet place all flashed across Brynjolf’s face before it finally settled on a cool acceptance and understanding.  “You’re the Dragonborn,” he stated, voice even.

Mera’s chest ached at his tone of voice. “Yes, I am.”

“Does this dangerous deed have to do with the dragons?” He asked her, but she was sure he already knew the answer.

“Yeah, Bryn, it does. It’s…. If I don’t go, everything - everyone - is doomed. It’s, I don’t expect you to understand this, but it’s the World Eater. He’s come to destroy our world, swallow everything up and bring about the end. I… it’s my destiny, my _duty_ ,  to stop him. No one else can.”

Brynjolf settled back in his seat, one hand still firmly grasping the bottle of mead. He swirled it for a moment, before taking a swig.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

The implied question of why she didn’t tell him _before_ didn’t go over her head.

Mera hesitated for a moment, opening and then closing her mouth again while she thought out her words. “I… there are very few people outside of Whiterun who know that I’m Dragonborn. If I, well, if I don’t make it back, I didn’t want to go without telling you. It didn’t feel right.” She paused for a moment, staring back down at the table. Absently, she scratched at the wood, drumming her nails against the surface. The tips of her fingers were starting to feel numb in this cold, but she didn’t mind. “I’d wanted to tell you about this, about everything, for a long time. I just never knew how.”

Brynjolf finished what was left in his bottle with a quick motion, before bringing it back down onto the table with an empty clunk. “Well, I’m here now, so go on.”

“Huh?” She asked, biting down hard on her lip as she looked back up at him.

“I’m listening, lass,” he repeated, standing to grab another bottle that was left on a barrel. He opened it in a quick movement and took drink. “You’ve got my full attention. You can tell me, now, but you look cold. Inside?” He asked with a nod towards the door.

A small, sad smile pulled at Mera’s lips as she stood on tired legs, moving to stand beside him. “Yeah, let's go.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might write a chapter about what happens next if people like this! Let me know in the comments if you want that!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people asked for this, and I couldn't help myself from writing it. Hope you enjoy!

“I don’t remember anything before waking up on that cart.”

Mera spoke, her voice low as the light that emanated from the crackling hearth across from them. She gripped a mug of ale tightly in both of her hands, holding it on the table as her eyes hazed, unfocused on the world in front of her. Across the table, Brynjolf managed to look more relaxed, less tension in his body, but a terse frown found its way onto his face.

“You mean in Helgen?”

She nodded shortly. She’d told most of the guild about Helgen, loud and drunk on the nights where they’d gathered in the Flagon to drink away the sorrows of their dwindling wealth. She’d boasted, standing on the bar as she mimicked the captain, ordering her to the block, spreading her arms wide to imitate the massive span of a dragon.

She’d never told them how much laughing had helped to ease the nightmares of black wings and a sky raining fire.

“Sometimes I think the Divines dropped me there, in the middle of whatever ambush I was caught in, and left me to fend for myself.”

“You really don’t remember anything, lass?”

“No, I don’t,” and she’d given up hope of remembering a long time ago.

“Hm,” Brynjolf moved his free hand to rub at the hair on his jaw. “Alright lass, then what? I’ve heard your story of Helgen a million times. What’s the truth of it?”

“What I told the guild was all true, except for the part of me… not remembering. And,” she sighed, pulling her hands off of her mug and up to cover her face. “The dragon that attacked that day. He was the World Eater.”

“Aye, you’ve mentioned that. World Eater, whatever that is,” Brynjolf took a sip from his mug before leveling his gaze at her. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll keep this short and simple because sometimes I don’t even understand it all,” She dragged her hands down her face, feeling exhaustion pull at her at the very thought of having to explain the whole Dragon Crisis to someone with no preexisting information. The Blades, Paarthurnax and the Greybeards, they all at least knew something to help them get to the conclusion. And Mera had been around to watch it all fall into place. Rarely did she try to explain it to an outsider.

“At the end of the Dragon Wars, Alduin was cast out of time using an Elder Scroll by ancient Nords. He is the first son of Akatosh, and meant to be the World Eater. His… _duty_ is to devour the world. Mine, as the Dragonborn, is to stop him.”

She paused, glancing up at Brynjolf to see if he was following her. With a curt nod from the ginger, she continued. “I am the _last_ Dragonborn… or so they say. It was prophesied, long before our time, that the last Dragonborn and Alduin would battle, and that only the Dragonborn could ever defeat the World Eater.”

“So you’re going to fight him, then? That’s the deed?” Brynjolf pressed, and Mera sighed.

Even thinking about what she had to do caused a pain to rise in her stomach. Odahviing had been very clear. Her task was not an easy one. “I…” she paused, taking a shuddering breath. “I have to ride on dragon back, to Skuldafn, to reach a portal that will take me to Sovngarde, where Alduin is feasting on the souls of the dead, getting stronger with every moment. That’s where I’ll fight him.”

Drained, she ran a hand through her messy blonde hair, frowning as it caught in knots. When was the last time she was able to take proper care of herself? “Ever since I woke up, my life has revolved around dragons and prophesy. Doomsday and flames. I trained with the Companions, the College, assassins and thieves, all pointed towards this one goal.”

“Sounds like a lot to handle for someone who’s only been around for a year.”

Mera looked up, intending to glare at the thief across from her, but seeing his lopsided smirk had her letting out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, it is.”

Mera rubbed her eyes, pressing hard enough that she saw spots behind her eyelids before easing up and letting them fall to the table. She’d never felt exhaustion like this. The anticipation of talking to Brynjolf, of repairing their relationship before heading back to Whiterun had worn on her. She’d settled all of her affairs all over the Holds, in case of an extended absence, or of no return, as she hated to remind herself. This had been her last stop.

“Brynjolf, I’m so tired,” she finally said, and her voice cracked as she did, “The guild was the only escape I had from all this. I tried to hide in the Ratway like a _coward_ and people suffered, Bryn. Souls have been lost. I just want it to be over.”

There was a long moment when all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and her quiet, shaking breaths before Mera felt a weight on her hand.

Slowly, she lifted her head, looking to see a large, calloused hand covering hers. Her gaze moved upwards, until finally it rested on Brynjolf’s face.

She’d never seen him look so sad.

“It sounds like it almost is over, lass,” he spoke, his accent softening the words, and the familiarity of it made her smile, if only for a moment.

“I’m scared, Bryn,” she admitted, feeling vulnerable and raw as she finally said the words out loud. She was always so afraid to admit her own terror. If any of Skyrim knew that their _hero_ , the one who their very lives were dependant on, was shaking in her boots at the mere thought of having to face Alduin again, how could they ever hope for a tomorrow? Here, however, in the privacy of her own home, in the intimacy of this conversation, she let it out. “I’ve never been so scared of anything. Not of the Thalmor, the Headsman in Helgen… not of Mercer.”

Her head swam as he squeezed her hand. Drinking had made talking easier, but it didn’t help her now when the whole world felt so heavy.

“Aye, and I don’t think anyone can fault you for that, lass. The whole world on your shoulders, and it’s a burden you’re carrying alone.” His words didn’t offer much comfort, but hearing him speak was grounding. It pulled her out of the gloom in her head and back home, to the wooden city of Riften, to the warmth of the fire and of the hand that still rested on her own.

Mera inhaled and exhaled, taking slow controlled breaths as she came down from the emotional high. In a voice no louder than a whisper, she said, “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what you’re thanking me for, lass,” Brynjolf’s voice sounded lighter than before. His attempt at lifting the mood. “You’re the one who’s going to save the whole world.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, the sound interrupted by a hiccup or two from the tears and the booze. “You’re right. I think you’re the one who should be thanking _me_.”

“Thank you,” he said, more seriously before. “And I mean that, lass. I’m a thief - have been my whole life - we aren’t known for our selflessness or generosity. Aside from the guild, its every man for himself.” Brynjolf took a sip, swirling his cup a bit and frowning at whatever it was he saw inside. “But you… Well, I knew you were something special when I plucked you out of the market. Even if you did fumble your first job.”

The teasing was back, and with that, Mera laughed in ernest, a blush creeping up and into her cheeks. “I was a _dragon slayer_ , Bryn, not a thief!” Playfully, she shoved his hand away from hers, using it instead to grab her cup and finish her ale. “You can’t hide from dragons, I had no practice.”

“Heh, well that’s hardly the case now, is it, _Guild Master_.”

And with that, she felt the heaviness in her chest again, weighing down the moment of happiness like dragonbone resting in her pocket. Brynjolf frowned at her sudden change in demeanor.

“You’ll take care of the guild, I know you will,” Mera looked down at her lap and sighed. “Will you tell them?”

“Tell them what?”

“Everything. If I don’t come back, tell them why,”

“Mera..”

“I’d always wanted to tell them, you know? I know members of the guild keep secrets, it’s not unheard of. But something this big… I felt like I was lying. Every time I left and couldn’t explain where I had been, every time I had to laugh off a wound, pretend I had gotten it from bandits,” she trailed off, shaking her head. “And the rest of world too, _gods_ , if all of Skyrim had found out that their “hero of legend”, the _Dragonborn_ , is a petty thief. With dragons coming back to life, burning half of Skyrim, I just wanted them to have someone to look to. Hope to hold onto and all that.” Mera breathed out, stopping herself before she could get caught up in her ranting. “But I want them to know. Please. Please tell them, so they’ll understand that I didn’t just leave them.”

“Mera, I-”

“ _Promise_ me, Brynjolf. I need you to promise.”

“...Aye, lass. I promise.” Before she could say anything else, he continued, “But you _will_ make it back. I need you to promise me that.”

“Brynjolf you know that I-”

“Mera, listen to me.” His green eyes felt harsh as they locked onto her. “After everything you just told me, I know you can do this. What’s a dragon to the Guild Master, Nightingale, Agent of Nocturnal?” He boistered his voice as he spoke, adding more drama and making her smile. “You’ll come back.”

“Alright, Bryn. You win,” she shook her head, “I promise. I’ll come back.”

“Good, glad that’s settled then.”

Their conversation lightened from there. It’d been a long time since they’d just talked, the two of them alone, but they fell easily back into their old habits, and a smile came easily to Mera’s face as the night pulled on.

Mera would like to think she’d made many friends in Skyrim, and that many people would notice if she were gone. Companions in Whiterun, Khajiit in the caravans, Jarls in their halls and mages in the College.  She’d brawled with every brute in every bar, and played tag with the children in nearly all the major holds. Even with her defiance, the Blades would mourn her, and she liked to think that even Ulfric Stormcloak would miss her presence.

None of this was anything like the relationship she had with Brynjolf. From the beginning, he’d put faith in her like no one else had. He had trusted her, paraded her around the guild and _proudly_ claimed her as his protégé, even when the rest of the guild thought that she was doomed from the start. After hard months of being tested and tried by everyone she had come across, his soft accent and blind faith had been what she needed to keep going.

When they had started sleeping together it had just felt natural.

There was nothing romantic about it, but that didn’t mean it was emotionless. She cared for Brynjolf, deeply, and Mera was sure he cared for her as well. Maybe they were in too deep and maybe sometimes she got confused, but that fact would always remain true, she was sure of it.

The thought of it pulled at her chest as a cold wind whipped the outside of the home, howling through whatever cracks were improperly sealed. Mera shivered in her chair.

“Brynjolf,” she started, voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Hm?”

“It’ll be cold in the Cistern tonight.”

Brynjolf looked outside lazily, considering the thought as his hand grasped his long since empty mug. “Aye, it will be.”

“Bryn,” she repeated his name, leaning across the table to capture his attention, “will you stay with me tonight? Please.” She added, a hint of desperation in her tone.

Brynjolf’s eyes searched her face, uncertainty laced across his features, so she continued. “I just want to be warm, tonight. Before I leave in the morning. Hold me tonight, please?” Maybe she was too drunk, too desperate. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done this before, with each other or any number of other members in the guild. Cold nights in Riften were harsh, and sharing body heat was preferable to losing a toe.

It wasn’t as if she was asking him for anything more than that.

“Alright, lass. I’ll stay.” He said, standing up slowly. “I think it’s time for bed, anyway.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she yawned, eyes closing for a long moment. When she opened them, she saw his hand, extended to help her to her feet. A real gentleman. She took his hand without thinking, and allowed him to pull her up and into him.

Being pressed so fully to his warmth was everything she didn’t know she needed at that moment. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his leathers, breathing him in.

 _Don’t think of how you’ll miss this_.

Mera stayed hidden there until she felt a pair of soft lips press against the top of her head “Come on,” he prompted, murmuring the words into her hair. “Into bed.”

Slowly she pealed herself off of him and looked up with a red eyed smile. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm as walked over to the bed. “I still have clothes of yours in the wardrobe, if you want to change.”

She didn’t need to look back to hear him move to the wardrobe in question and start opening the doors. She slipped under the covers, and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling very, very heavy. It felt like only a moment had past before she felt a weight on the other side of the bed before a warm body was under the covers beside her. A large arm wrapped its way around her waist and she pressed into him, trying to fit all of her curves into his. In every possible outcome of this evening, this had to be the best. As far as last nights went, she couldn’t think of a better way to spend it.

She wondered if Sovngarde could ever be this warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOSH this was fun to write. I always imagine my Dragonborn being really close with Brynjolf and them developing this weird relationship that isn't quiet romantic but also definitely isn't platonic. Bros that bang and want the best for each other? Who knows! Not me :D

**Author's Note:**

> I might add a chapter about what happens inside, during their conversation if people would like. Comment to let me know if you want that!


End file.
